


Training Scene Continued

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Malec, Post 3a, Post 3x10, Post-Episode: s03e10 Erchomai, Training Scene, trailer inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 03:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17800580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alec and Magnus train after the loss of Magnus's magic.





	Training Scene Continued

Magnus silently strapped on the fingerless gloves Alec had insisted he wear. He looked around, and the large training room, except for Magnus and Alec, was completely empty. Alec was examining two long wooden staffs, tapping them against one another. The _tap tap tap_ echoed throughout the room as if they had been in a cave, and Magnus repressed a shudder.

                He’d rarely told Alec this, but he hated the Institute. It was always too cold, the walls marked with too much angelic power. Magnus may not have been a warlock anymore, but he was still half-demon, still a Downworlder, and—magic or not—his kind had never been welcomed on Nephilim ground.

                It was odd to think that now, as a Mundane, he felt even less welcome.

                Magnus swallowed, and, forcing a steadiness into his voice, said, “Alexander, is this really necessary?”

                “It’s more than necessary,” Alec said. He looked Magnus directly in the eye, and Magnus only felt a small painful jump in his heart before he forced himself to look away, focusing his eyes on the window behind Alec, the wall, the weapon in his hand—anything but Alec himself.

                When he risked a glance, he saw Alec look down, a hurt look imperceptibly pass his face before it was gone, and Alec was stepping towards him.

                “You’ve made a lot of enemies over the past few centuries. If any one of them finds out you don’t have your magic anymore—”

                “I understand your concern, and I love you for it,” Magnus said, trying to soften his voice and restore some easiness in Alec’s stiff shoulders. He was close enough now that he could touch Alec’s face if he wanted to. He didn’t know why he wouldn’t raise his arm, why he couldn’t.

                “But,” he continued, “I’ve already told you, I can defend myself just fine with my hands. I’ve lived hundreds of years, I’ve picked up a thing or two about fighting with a weapon.”

                Alec stared at him, and Magnus could feel him trying to capture his gaze. He relented and let his eyes fall to Alec’s just as the Shadowhunter looked away, and he stepped out of Magnus’s space as if he was afraid to be there.

                “Maybe,” he said, “but it’s been a while since you’ve used a weapon, right? There’s no point arguing with me, I’m not letting you go till we’ve finished training,” and had Magnus not been so accustomed to hearing Alec’s _Head of the New York Institute_ voice, he might’ve believed Alec had slipped into his leader role as he so often did. This, however, was not that voice. It was something more forced, something fearful; though whether that fear was there because of Magnus or for him, he didn’t know.

                He mustered a smile. “Not letting me go, you say?”

                Alec looked like he wanted to smile, but seemed to remember where they were and what they were doing, and his expression cooled.

                “Look alive,” he said as he tossed the staff, and Magnus caught it with a slight gasp. He’d barely taken hold of the weapon when Alec came running at him, raising his staff and ready to strike.

                On instinct, Magnus stretched a hand out, willing blue flames to rise from his fingertips. He quickly realized that wouldn’t work, and raised his staff just in time to block Alec’s hit. Alec leaned in close, the staffs between their chests, their fingers brushing.

                Magnus stepped back, as if shocked by electricity. Alec panted, his eyes on the ground, his expression stunned, as if he couldn’t believe his boyfriend, the one that usually searched for every excuse to keep them close together, could’ve moved away as if Alec had hit him.

                “Okay,” he breathed, “okay.” And he looked up at Magnus, his eyes dark and hungry. Magnus knew that look, though he’d never seen it so aggressive before. Alec took a step toward him, and Magnus couldn’t help it; he moved back.

                Something seemed to break in Alec’s eyes, and Magnus, unable to take the look, held his staff up. “You wanted a fight. I’m not letting you near me, Alexander.”

                Alec nodded, but Magnus couldn’t miss the way the Shadowhunter’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his staff. It became very evident, in Alec’s proceeding attacks, that he cared less about disarming Magnus and more about getting close. But Magnus wasn’t allowing it.

                With every blow, Magnus had either managed to dodge it, or hit back hard enough to send Alec stumbling backwards.

                “You’re doing this on purpose,” Alec said, holding up his staff, panting. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks red, his hair glued to his forehead and the nape of his neck, and though part of Magnus wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and run his fingers through Alec’s hair, another part of him, the stronger for some reason, wanted to move further away.

                “I’m training,” Magnus said, avoiding Alec’s eyes, “like you wanted. Are you just upset that I’m better than you thought I’d be?”

                “You’re moving away from me!”

                Magnus swallowed. “It’s all in your head, Alexander,” he lied. “Now, stop trying to distract me.”

                Alec clenched his jaw, and made to knock Magnus off his feet, but Magnus turned, lifting his leg to avoid the sweeping staff, and aimed the tip of his staff at his crouching boyfriend.

                He smirked, though he felt nowhere near as satisfied as he supposed Alec might’ve wanted him to. He felt no tingle in his fingers, no fire up his spine, no warmth in his chest at knowing that his magic was still there, within him, to keep him safe. It was just him now.

                He supposed his expression must’ve melted to the true misery he was feeling because as Alec stared up at him, his eyes slowly softened.

                He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, Magnus didn’t hear it, because in that moment, he felt something course through his body, something a lot less pleasant and lot less familiar than his blue flame.

                This was dark, chilling, and though Magnus could hear himself speak, he didn’t think he was making any sense. Then, something flashed at the front of his mind. It was a series of flashbacks, so quick that Magnus barely had to time to register what each one was. All he knew was that they were all of his time with his father.

                Asmodeus carrying him in his arms, Asmodeus wiping away his tears, Asmodeus smiling proudly at him, Asmodeus guiding his hand up, taking aim at a young man, urging him to perform a spell that Magnus, even at that age, knew would only cause harm. Asmodeus’s deep, echoed laugh, making his entire body shiver and his heart race.

                And Magnus stumbled backwards. It was only one step, but it was the step Alec needed to get himself upright, and pushing Magnus against a wall.

                The images were gone, leaving Magnus confused, distressed, and panting. He and Alec were a mere few inches away now, their breaths fanning against the other’s lips, their weapons discarded and forgotten.

                Alec had his hand against Magnus’s chest, his fingers digging into his skin and the material of his shirt, his other hand now gripping Magnus’s waist, keeping him steady, but also forbidding him from moving anywhere.

                Magnus didn’t think he could. His hands lightly held onto Alec’s arms as if he was still trying to process whether or not the Shadowhunter was really there.

                “What was that?” Alec asked, and Magnus was brought back to reality with the painful hold on his waist, undoubtedly tight enough to have formed a bruise. Had he frightened Alec so much? He hadn’t meant to…

                He shook his head, his voice quiet, “I don’t know. I don’t understand what happened.”


End file.
